Afterglow
by AngelOfLorien
Summary: After the battle of Badon Hill, only one person can help Tristan find the missing piece of his life in order for him to cross over. TristanxOC
1. Chapter 1

Tristan awoke to the peaceful sound of a nearby spring. Abruptly he sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face to clear it of sleep.

Darkness was descending on Badon Hill; in the gloaming, he saw villagers milling about still retrieving the dead and wounded Britons who fought alongside the knights against the Saxons.

Pushing himself to his feet, Tristan staggered to a tree. His legs felt weak and tingly. He cast a brief glance around the battlefield, wondering where the others were. Slowly and with great care, he made his way to the keep.

As he rounded the corner and the tavern came into view, he saw Jols sitting at a table, looking grim.

_Must still be reeling from the battle,_ Tristan thought to himself.

"You fought well today, Jols," he said.

The other man ignored him and placed his head in his hands. Leaving Jols to his ale, Tristan made his way to the greathall to see Arthur. He would be leaving within the week to return to Sarmatia and he wanted to talk to his commander--former commander, he reminded himself--about many things before he left.

He passed Vanora on the street and saw her wipe at the tears streaming down her face.

"Vanora? What is wrong?"

She continued walking as if he hadn't spoke, rounding the corner and leaving Tristan standing alone in the street.

"She kinna hear you. None of them can."

Tristan turned to the voice coming from the darkness.

"I know who you are," he said flatly as he stared at the young woman standing in the shadows. "You are the woman who lives on the west bank of the river. The one they call a witch."

"Among other things, including Tessla, which is what my mam called me," she said easily.

"What do you mean they can't hear me?"

Tessla ducked back into the alley as a couple of villagers passed by. Tristan stepped in front of them but they continued forward. His breath left his body in a rush as they passed him.

_No_, he thought. They didn't pass him.

They passed _through_ him.

Tristan felt his chest constrict and his head pounded. He looked down at his hands, still covered with the blood and dirt from the battle. Flashes of memory forced themselves through his mind.

The battle. The Saxon. The fight between the two of them. His death.

His death...

"Tristan, you have to listen to me," Tessla said in a soothing voice. She could see the stricken look on his face and heard the raspy sound of his breathing as panic began to set in.

She walked to him, careful not to get too close. He had been in control of his emotions when he was alive. Never had she heard of him acting without thought.

But he was no longer alive. And that knowledge alone was enough to change everything about a person.

"I'm not dead," he said firmly. His voice quavered and that fueled his anger. He turned and stalked to the keep, ignoring Tessla as she followed him carefully. Once there, he stomped into the greathall. "Arthur! Gawain!" He bellowed for his friends, but none acknowledged him.

Tessla nodded as a maid scurried past, carrying a tray with three pitchers of wine. "Come," she whispered to Tristan. "This way."

He glared at her and followed the maid. She rounded the corner and entered the meeting room. Bors, Gawain, Galahad, and Arthur stood in their places around the Round Table. Tessla stopped outside the door but Tristan continued forward.

"Arthur, I must speak with you," he said.

"Knights," Arthur said, voice thick. "We come here…to remember our fallen—" He cleared his throat.

"Listen to me!" Tristan yelled helplessly, but Arthur continued talking.

"—To remember our fallen brothers," Arthur finished loudly. He raised his wine. "To Dagonet, who showed great bravery and love by giving the ultimate sacrifice. To Lancelot," he said pausing to gather himself.

_Lancelot?_ Tristan looked around the table. Sure enough, the bawdy young knight was missing. Tristan bowed his head in a sign of respect. He listened as Arthur continued.

"--who died proving to the world that his fate would be one that he chose. And to Tristan, whose quiet ways spoke volumes. May his free spirit clear the way to the afterlife for all of us to follow."

The knights drank from their cups and began speaking of the fallen brethren, but Tristan was not listening. He sank to the floor and sagged against the doorframe.

He looked at Tessla, his amber eyes full of sorrow. His mouth opened, and then closed, as if he wanted to speak but was unsure of what to say. He lowered his gaze and stared blankly at the wall across from him.

Tessla's heart broke for him as a single tear slid down his ashen cheek.

"May I help you, lady?"

She jumped as Arthur addressed her. She bowed her head slightly and looked back down at Tristan.

"N-no, sir. I merely wished to express my con-condolences to you and your men."

She gave a quick curtsy and hurried from the door. She turned back to Tristan before she rounded the corner.

"Scout," she whispered. He did not acknowledge her.

"Very well," she said quietly. "Come to me when you are ready. But Tristan, it only gets harder the more you watch their lives continue without you."

With that, she disappeared, leaving Tristan to himself.

"They buried me today you know."

Tessla gasped and thumped a hand over her now rapidly beating heart. She turned to face Tristan and met his harsh gaze with a sympathetic one of her own.

"I know," she said quietly.

"Why am I here?" Tristan snarled. "What purpose did my life serve if not to join in eternity with my brothers who went before me?"

"That is what you must find out," Tessla said as she turned back to her work.

Tristan stormed up behind her and reached out to take her arm in a painful grip. His hand slid through her body and came out the other side. He tried again but the result was the same.

"The true definition of insanity is to do the same thing again and again and expect a different outcome," she said drolly, not looking up from her work.

"Why are you the only person who can see me?" he demanded, looking at his hand. He could still feel the warmth of her body tingling on his skin.

"I am your guide. I am supposed to help you adjust."

"And you know so much about this because…." Tristan paused for her to fill in the blank.

"Because my mam was a seer and my da was a mage," she said matter-of-factly. "You were pointed out to me when I was naught but a child."

"So you are a witch then," he said with a curl of his lip. "So tell me Witch, how is it you plan on helping me figure out my purpose?"

Tessla sighed and put down the herbs she had been grinding. She turned to face Tristan as she dabbed at her forehead with the back of her wrist.

"I am going to analyze your personality traits to see what you were lacking."

He stared at her in confusion. "Are those words supposed to mean something?"

"My da used…advanced…words," she said with a shrug. "At times I didn't understand him either. What it means is we'll be going 'round as though you were still alive and I'll be watching you to see what it is that you don't do."

"And what good will that do?" Tristan demanded.

"It will show me what you were missing that kept you from having a complete life."

Tristan stepped forward threateningly. "I am still dead, naught but a spirit," he said lowly. He pointed toward the graveyard. "My life is over! My body, buried!"

"Aye, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner you can move on. As much of a shock as it is, scout, you are dead. There is no coming back from that, no matter how much you want it. Pitying yourself won't do a thing for you."

Tristan smiled grimly and stepped away from the girl. "Then by all means, Witch. Let's get this done."

Tessla stripped off her apron and put her crushed herbs in a bowl. She grabbed up a cloak and threw it over her shoulders before walking past Tristan and out the door. She shut the door and heard him curse.

"Witch! I cannot open this door!"

Tessla sighed and faced the door. "Come through the door, scout. You are not corporeal. You've no body to stop you," she whispered.

She saw Tristan's arm pass slowly through the door then retract. A second later both arms waved through the door and disappeared back behind it.

After a moment, she had to bite back a smile as Tristan's leg made a wide step through the door. He had his arms up, crossed over his face as if expecting it to get stuck on the way through.

"See?" She said with a smile. "You'll get used to it in time," she said, turning and heading toward the village.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Two weeks later**_

"For the love of the gods, Tristan!" Tessla said sleepily, rolling onto her stomach. "Some of us still have to sleep to function, scout."

"Come," Tristan said.

Remembering what Tessla had taught him on his third day, he focused in on her blanket and inhaled slowly. Reaching down, he felt the material beneath his palms and smiled, jerking it aside.

The sight of Tessla's pale round derrière had his body—or lack thereof—clenching painfully in a way Tristan remembered only too well.

Tessla let out a squeak of surprise and sat up covering herself as best as she could.

"Tristan!"

He smirked at her and shrugged. "I don't think I've thanked you for teaching me to touch things," he said.

"Get out of here so I can get dressed," Tessla said dejectedly. "Its barely dawn, but that's alright. I'll get up. No big deal," she mumbled as she wrapped the blanket around her chest.

"I'll be outside," Tristan said as he disappeared through her wall.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Tessla sat at a table in the tavern leaning her head on her fist. She looked bored to tears. This time of day was slow at the tavern, so she would be able to talk to some of the women about Tristan. Surely one of them would know something about him.

It seemed that no one else did.

"Get you anything?" A small, red-haired woman asked. "I don't recall seeing you 'round much, 'cepting the past couple of weeks."

"I don't usually stay around the village. I usually tend my business and go home," Tessla said with a shy smile.

"You're the witch from down near the river, yeah?" A big, burly man said as he came up behind the petit redhead. She turned slightly and slapped him on the shoulder.

"You don't have to say anything to that," the woman said, giving the man a baleful glare. "Bors's not known for having good manners."

She sat across from Tessla and placed her hands on the table. "I'm Vanora," she said with a cheery smile. "People say I run things 'round here, but I'm not so sure at times."

Tessla smiled in return. She had heard others talk about the redhead and her lover. They had an ungodly amount of children and Tessla was sure that they would be adding more to the mix.

"I was actually planning on asking around to see if any of the women around here knew much about…" she trailed off and looked up at Bors.

It had been a couple of weeks since Tristan's death, but she did not want to be callous and dredge up the man's pain.

"Right then. Why don't I just sod off and let you two talk?" Bors said with a wink and a kiss to Vanora.

"I'm sorry," Tessla said quickly. "I didn't mean—"

But Vanora gave a wave of her hands. "Don't you worry about it, dear. He's likely to have gone off anyway. He doesn't have a very long attention span unless one of us is naked."

Tessla smiled and gave a quick flick of her gaze to Tristan, who was standing beside Vanora but watching her. She felt her cheeks warm and cleared her throat.

"I was wondering if any of the other women knew anything of the Sarmatian scout, Tristan," she said, making sure to keep her voice low.

Sadness flickered in Vanora's eyes a second before she straightened with a small smile.

"I can answer that for you. That would be a no," she said, sighing.

"Tristan kept more to himself than any of the others. Oh, sure, he stayed around and talked to the knights and the other men, like Jols for example, but he never got close to any of the girls. Only when he absolutely needed to bed one did he take their company. He wasn't like Gawain or Galahad. Or Lancelot," she added with that same sad smile.

She gave Tessla a measuring look before arching a brow at her. "Did you know Tristan well?"

"Tell her you did," Tristan said.

"Um, I did, yes. Well, not _really_ well, but I knew him."

"More's the pity for you then, witch," came a biting voice. Tessla looked to see a blonde woman leaning low over the next table setting drinks in front of two Romans.

"Shut your face, Leiah. You put that big nose of yours in my business again, I'll take it off your head," Vanora said in a scathing voice.

"I was just offering the girl my sympathies, Nora," Leiah replied just as heatedly.

"Why?"

The blonde turned her gaze on Tessla and gave a nasty smile, revealing crooked teeth and an overbite.

"That man had one nasty temperament. Liked it rough, he did. Rough and fast. Took his fill however he wanted it and left you in the cold, just like that," she said with a snap of her fingers.

Tessla looked at Tristan's expression that he was keeping carefully blank while he stared at the tabletop. She felt her temper rising on his behalf and narrowed her eyes at the horrible woman who was speaking.

"Never cared for nothin'. Leastaways, nothing worth keepin'," she said, giving Tessla a once over.

Before Tessla could react, Vanora slammed her hands onto the table and stood with such fury that the bench tipped backward, sending Tristan tumbling to the ground.

"Gather your coppers and get the fuck out of this tavern," Vanora said in a dangerously quiet voice.

"You can't order me about, Nora. Like it or not you're naught but a table scrubbin' whore like me," Leiah said, stepping forward.

Vanora's hand shot out like lightening, catching the other woman in the jaw and snapping her head to the side.

Tessla saw Bors rise and come to stand close to where the two women were tangled and swearing at each other.

Leiah had a grip on Vanora's hair and was pulling mercilessly, but the redhead slammed her elbow back into the other woman's stomach and straightened, ramming her fist into her face and knocking her to the floor.

"I taught her that," Bors whispered to Tessla. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Vanora's waist, hauling her effortlessly off the other woman. Still she kicked and screamed, hissing and biting like a wet cat.

"You'd best be going now," Bors said slowly to Leiah.

Leiah swiped at the blood pouring from her mouth, snatched up her coppers from the day, and stormed from the tavern cursing and screaming as she stomped down the street.

Tessla looked around the tavern to see where Tristan had gone, only to realize that he was no longer there. She said her goodbyes to Vanora and Bors, who had yet to release the redhead for fear that she would tear off after Leiah, and left in search of the scout.

-----------------------

As Tessla crossed the field to her hut, she saw a solitary figure crouched on a hill in the distance. She stopped and sighed, knowing that it was Tristan. She picked up her skirts and started up the hill to the knights' cemetery at a slow and casual pace.

"Tristan…"

"What she said was true. I didn't give a damn about anyone." He turned and pierced her with his gaze. "Anyone," he emphasized.

"What about the other knights? I understood they were like your brothers."

"Indeed, they were," he said quietly. "And I watched them fall, one by one." He turned that angry glare on her again.

"The past fifteen years of my life were spent in servitude of an empire I hate, watching the only people I was close to die for it. You tell me, Witch, where is the justice in that?"

Tessla gave a helpless shrug. "I do not deal in justice, scout."

"No," Tristan said, lowering his head to stare at the flame burning on the mound of dirt that covered his body. "No, you do not."

He heaved a sigh and Tessla crossed the remaining distance between them, glancing back to make certain that none of the villagers were around to see her. She knelt beside him in silence for a long moment before she looked at him sharply.

"It seems to me that vile wench was quite wrong about you. It seems to me that you gave a damn about things that were important to you. Who cares if you didn't shag everything with or without out a penis?"

Tristan shifted uncomfortably.

"That doesn't mean a thing. Just that you aren't frolicsome. Big fucking deal!" Tessla exclaimed throwing her hands in the air. Tristan's eyes widened slightly at the word. He'd never heard Tessla use any curses.

"And who wants a man that goes about taking nothing serious, that's what I'd like to know." She lapsed into silence and stared at the flame.

"If…" Tristan cleared his throat. "If I knew what I had never done, how would I go about fixing it?"

"It would depend on what it was, I suppose," Tessla replied.

"Well…" he cleared his throat again. "There was this…woman…that I bedded when we first arrived with the bishop."

He looked at Tessla, who was watching him intently. He quickly looked back at his grave and gave a wave of his hand as he continued.

"I never got around to paying her, so I just thought that maybe…Well, you know. A debt owed and all that…" He finished lamely, flicking his eyes back to Tessla.

She laughed lightly and sat on her butt in the wet grass beside his grave, leaning back on the loose earth.

"I doona think owing a debt to a wench is enough to keep you from the afterlife," she said gently. She smiled at him and chuckled again.

"That's the only thing I can think of!" Tristan declared. "I've been strolling around for two weeks and cannot for the life of me think of what my business is!"

"You cannot rush these things, scout. My mam's charge took over 8 years to crossover. So settle in, love," she said. "It could take a while."

She raised a hand to brush his hair back, but her fingers passed straight through. Tristan shuddered and closed his eyes.

"Sometimes I wish…" Tessla began, but she just shook her head. "Nevermind. What does that feel like?"

Tristan opened his eyes and gave her a small smile. "It feels like a thousand fingers stroking my skin. Warm and soothing. Calming," he said quietly.

Tessla watched him as he leaned back against his grave beside her and closed his eyes. She saw people milling about in the distance and sighed softly.

"I suppose I should go," she said, rising. "Are you going to be coming along?"

"I'll be along. I think I will stay a while yet."

Tessla nodded and turned back down the hill to return home.

"What're you doing up there, witch? Convening with the dead?"

"Aye, t'was your mother. She says she wishes she could remember which asshole it was that spawned you, as she had so many she cannot remember," she tossed out, not breaking stride.

The man started toward her, but a voice rang in the courtyard.

"Oi! Is there a problem?"

Tessla stopped as the man confronted Bors. He didn't get far into his sentence before Bors's voice drowned him out.

"If you—or anyone—gives that girl there a hard time, ya'll be answering to me. Is that understood? Eh?!"

There were mumbles and scuffs as the man went back to whatever he had been doing.

"Should take care of it," Bors said as he reached her side. "If you get any more trouble from any of these louts, you let me know, alright?"

Tessla nodded and thanked him before continuing home.

--------------------------


	3. Chapter 3

The days came and went, and soon winter descended on Badon Hill. The more time passed, the more irritable Tristan became.

"Have you any idea how it feels to know that _no one _can see and hear you?" he demanded as he paced Tessla's hut.

Tessla continued to sew the tunic she had been working on. "No," she said, uninterested. "Not since the last time you asked anyway."

He focused on a wooden bowl on the table and swatted it away, sending it flying across the room.

"Hey!"

"I thought you were supposed to be my guide? Help me adjust, isn't that what you said?"

"Scout, can you think of one thing that I haven't done in attempt to help send you over? I have talked to everyone—including Arthur. Everyone believes you lived a full life of honor and bravery, even if you did keep to yourself."

"Then why the hell am I still here?!" Tristan shouted, slamming a fist on the tabletop.

"I doona know. But if you break anything else in one of your temper tantrums, you can believe there'll be hell to pay," Tessla shouted back.

A knock at the door had her sighing and setting her work aside.

"Probably someone thinking I'm mad, talking to myself," she hissed at Tristan as she passed.

She opened the door to see a small boy.

"'Ello," he said as he walked in.

"Er…hello. Can I help you with something boy?" Tessla said.

"That's one of Bors's children," Tristan said. "The oldest."

"Gilly, isn't it?" Tessla asked.

The boy nodded, looking around. "Who're you talking to when I came up?"

Tessla blushed. "I was just….singing."

The boy scoffed at that. "That was yellin'. Trust me, I know. Sounds like you and your man will be having a babe soon."

Tessla's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"Happens all the time. When my mum and dad fight and yell—and throw things," he added, eying the broken bowl. "I always get a new baby brother or sister. 'Ts why I'm here. My mum needs yer help. Says you'd have some herbs what like Dagonet used to use. My da says that you being a witch and all he's sure you'll know what to do."

"What to do about what, Gilly?" she asked, glancing at Tristan with a look of amusement.

"The new baby's got mum sick. You gotta come with me," he said, heading for the door. "Bring your stuff there and come on."

"He's a lot like Bors," Tristan commented as she gathered her things. She gave a nod and rolled her eyes.

"Oy. We've not got all day ya know," Gilly called from her door.

Tessla and Tristan followed the boy to his hut and was greeted by a white-faced Bors.

"Somethin's not right. She's lost a lot of blood," he said quietly as he dabbed at his sweating forehead. "She's—we've lost babes before, but it's never been so bad."

Tessla could see the older man's concern and placed a hand lightly on his arm.

"Why don't you go and get you something to eat, hmm? Maybe take a short walk. The air would do you good," she said gently.

"I don't wanna leave her just yet," he said.

"Let him stay," Tristan said, looking into the hut. "She's…he should stay."

Tessla patted Bors's arm and entered the hut. She went to stand beside Vanora and unpacked her herbs. The small redhead was sweaty and pale, and the bedclothes were soaked with blood from her miscarriage.

"Vanora, look at me love," Tessla said in a soothing voice. "Everything will be alright. Trust me. I need you to drink this," she said, lifting a small bowl to the woman's lips.

"That's it. Good girl. Bors, would you put some water on the fire? And Gilly, take your brothers and sisters outside for a while, hmm?"

Tristan watched, amazed at Tessla's ability to take charge. She passed out orders and tended to Vanora with no trouble. Not once did her voice change from that gentle cadence. He stood behind her and watched her as she worked. The herbs that she was making into a broth would help make Vanora sleep and build her strength…if she did not just give in to death.

Vanora's head lolled from side to side in her weakness. Tessla placed a cool cloth against her forehead and dabbed at the sweat as she murmured quietly. Bors sat by her on the opposite side of the bed, clutching her hand as if it was his only anchor in this world.

"What is wrong with her?" Tristan asked.

Tessla gave a small shrug and shook her head, mouthing the words 'I don't know'.

"She's fading. I can feel it," Tristan whispered grimly.

Vanora turned her head to the side and fixed her gaze on his face. His brows furrowed.

"Can she see me?" he asked.

Vanora nodded slowly and gave him a small smile. "I can," she whispered.

"Vanora…" Tessla began, but Tristan interrupted her by going to lean over the bed. He put his face close to Vanora's and focused on touching her cheek.

"Tris..tan…"

"You have more fight in you than this," he said.

Vanora shook her head slowly. "Too tired," she whispered.

"What's she doing?" Bors asked, panicked.

"Its alright. Her weakness is making her see things. Go and see about that broth," Tessla said.

Reluctantly, Bors left the bedside and went to the fire.

"Look at the man, Vanora. What would he do if he didn't have you around? And all your little bastards, what of them?"

A tear slipped down Vanora's cheek as she raised her hand to touch Tristan's cheek. He leaned back, away from her touch.

"You have to fight it, Nora. Only you have the power to keep you alive. Nothing Tessla does will help if you do nothing to help yourself."

"Here's that broth," Bors said as he sat the pot down on a table behind Tessla. He went back to his chair and took her hand again, rubbing his thumb lightly over her fist.

Tristan rose and looked at them, and Tessla saw something foreign flicker in his eyes. She made a small bowl of broth and had Vanora drink it, giving Bors instructions to have her drink a bowl every few hours.

He nodded and leaned his head against Vanora's shoulder as she drifted off to sleep, placing a kiss to her clammy skin.

"I dunno what I'd do if she…" he said quietly. He looked at Tessla and shook his head.

"If I lost her, I'd be lost myself."

As dawn came, Tessla straightened in the chair she had been sleeping in and rubbed at the crick in her neck.

She looked at the bed and smiled. Vanora sat against the wall, sipping broth on her own. She was still pale and obviously weak, but she looked far better than she had last night.

"I had the strangest dream," she said to Tessla. Eying her, she smiled gently. "But I'll tell you 'bout it another time. Go on with you. You look as bad as I do."

Tessla smiled and gathered her things.

"If you start to feel bad again, send one of the children for me."

She and Tristan walked home in silence.

She stripped from her dress and climbed into bed, groaning at the feel of the pillow beneath her head.

"I know what it is that has kept me from my path," Tristan whispered.

"Hmm?" Tessla grunted.

"I've never had what those two had. With them, it's as if they share the same life force. To love someone so much as to defy death to be with them…I never had that."

"It is only love, scout. You loved people."

"I loved my brothers. I did not share the love that the bards speak of. That is a powerful, soul quaking emotion that can alter the path in one's life."

Tessla looked at him and the pain on his face had her heart clutching. She rolled over to face him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I wish I knew how to comfort you, Tristan," she whispered. She stretched out a hand to brush against his cheek only to have her fingers go through. She closed her hand and gave a forlorn laugh. "I just want to give you a big hug."

He smiled sadly. "At this moment I would gladly take it."

He stood and stretched. "You should get some sleep. Dawn will come fast for you."

Tessla nodded and lay back down, facing away from him. He did not see the tear slip down her nose as she turned her head into her pillow.

"_That is a powerful, soul quaking emotion that can alter the path in one's life."_

Aye, she knew that well. She felt it every time she saw the pain and loneliness surface in those warm brown eyes.

At first she had thought it was normal concern for her charge. But after seeing him with Vanora tonight, after seeing the way he watched Bors petting and comforting her, she realized the truth…

She loved a dead man.


	4. Chapter 4

Tessla paid Vanora a visit later that day. She was surprised to find the woman alone after being so ill such a short time ago, but Vanora explained.

"I sent the man packin'. Told him if he didn't get out of the house I'd never let him near me again. I swear, I thought he was going to rub the hide from my hand he was holding it so much." She gave a bright smile. "He's a big babe himself, you know."

Tessla smiled in return. "I've noticed that. You look much better. How do you feel?"

Vanora waved her hands. "Oh, I'll live. It isn't the first time this has happened and it is doubtless not to be the last. It was worse than before this time though."

"Vanora," Tessla began hesitantly. "You…almost died."

"I know," Vanora said quietly. "I'll tell you why I'm not, but you're bound to think I'm mad."

"Because of Tristan," Tessla asked.

Vanora's eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

Tessla lowered her head. She did not want to see the fear and loathing on the other woman's face when she told her secret. Vanora had come to mean so much to her.

"I see him," she whispered. "I've seen him every day since the day of his death. I, like my mother before me, am a seer. I was appointed to be Tristan's guide as a child by my father, who was a mage and a necromancer."

"Oh," Vanora said, clearing her throat. "Well then…perhaps you won't think me mad after all."

Tessla looked at the other woman confusedly. "You aren't going to start shrieking and cursing me to be in leagues with demons?"

Vanora gave a laugh before she saw that Tessla was serious. "Of course not, you silly git. Why would I? It doesn't change who you are, or that you're of a good soul."

One moment Tessla was sitting beside her friend's bed with a look of puzzlement, and in the next instant she was draped across Vanora, embracing her and crying.

"Thank you," she sobbed. Vanora patted her awkwardly.

"There now," she soothed. As Tessla sat back and sniffed in a most unladylike manner, Vanora picked at her blanket in thought.

"Why didn't Tristan go into the afterlife with Lancelot? According to the legends, knights are reborn as horses."

Tessla nodded. "A part of them, yes. The part that is the soldier. The part that is just a man remains in the hereafter. A…erm, friend, of my father's told me so."

"But why didn't Tristan go?"

"His life was incomplete," Tessla said. "Since his death we've been trying to figure out why, but until last night we had no clue. Then when he saw you and Bors, he knew that his life had been missing love. No one other than his brothers had ever loved him, and he had never loved anyone either."

"Well for the sake of the gods! How the hell is he supposed to fix that?! It isn't as if he's got idiots lined up to be in love with him! Especially since he's got no body!" Vanora exclaimed.

Tessla's lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears again.

Vanora's eyes widened again and her mouth took on a distinct 'o' shape. "Vanora, you great stupid cow," she scolded herself. "Oh, dear, don't cry. I didn't mean that you were an idiot."

"But I am! I am!" Tessla sobbed. "Vanora, I've fallen in love with a spirit! A spirit! What kind of future is that, hmm?"

"Well, I dunno…maybe there's some—"

"It isn't as if we can get married, now is it?" Tessla continued. "I mean, if the priest said 'til death ye do part' we could just say 'well, it's been real fun' and end it there! It isn't as if I can birth little…spirit….babies!" she cried, waving her hands.

"No, but you can enjoy your time together. How've you been spending these past months? You two talk, don't you?"

Tessla nodded, looking miserable.

"See? That's something half the world's couples don't do. God knows Bors and I don't often."

"But, I think about him when he was alive. I used to watch the knights in the practice ring. I gave him water once," she said with a small smile.

"I would see him in the field by the river, sitting in the grass alone and I would wonder about him. About what it would be like to be with him."

She was quiet a moment. "It is torturous, you know, being so close to him but not being able to touch him."

Vanora nodded silently. "Perhaps you should tell him that," she offered, but Tessla shook her head.

"My neurosis isn't helpful to him. He doesn't love me."

"Maybe he will," Vanora said. She was about to say more, but Bors entered the hut followed by a few of the children.

Tessla smiled at them and rose, squeezing her friend's hand. "Thank you for everything," she said.

When she'd gone, Vanora slapped Bors on the arm when he bent to kiss her.

"What?" he asked defiantly.

"Why do you men have to be so bloody difficult?" she said wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

--------

Tristan stared out over the muddy water of the river deep in thought. He had spent all day on the bank of the river thinking over the situation in which he found himself.

Love...

What the hell did he know about it? He'd never known it. He'd never shown it. Except for Vanora, who had been mother and sister to the other knights, he'd never recieved an act of kindness from a woman that hadn't wanted something in return.

Tristan tilted his head to the side at the thought. That wasn't entirely true. There had been a woman once--more a girl really--who had offered him a skin of water while he had been practicing.

Funny he should think about it now. He pictured the face of the young girl with kind eyes wide and curious. She had offered him her waterskin without hesitation. As he stared into those innocent eyes, he had--for some unknown reason--accepted her gift. Gods help him, he had even smiled at the imp. She had smiled back and a charming dimple appeared in...her...cheek...

Tristan's head snapped straight and his mouth fell open.

Tessla.

It had been Tessla.

The memory of the girl with the water had survived the hardships and battles of all these years. He had clung to that one act of generosity his entire life. Was that love?

He didn't know that or not, but since Tessla was the one person who had selflessly given him something, small drink of water though it was, he decided then and there that he would return the favor.

Somehow, he would give her something that she wanted.

-----------


	5. Chapter 5

Tessla stood over the hearth, stirring the large cauldron that sat over the flames.

The room was filling with the sweet scent of lavender. She added a handful of crushed herbs and the scent shifted to a lightly woodsy smell with just a touch of floral. She smiled in satisfaction.

She turned to get her vials and found Tristan waiting behind her. With a surprised shriek, she thumped her hand to her chest.

"Dammit Tristan!" she exclaimed. "Would it kill you to make a little bit of noise?"

He arched a brow at her. "No, I don't suppose it would," he said drolly.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be out…doing whatever it is you do," she said as she bustled past him and began filling the small bottles.

"I was, but…" he trailed off, reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously.

"But?" Tessla prompted, glancing at him.

He straightened and sighed. "I wanted to see if there was anything I could do for you."

Tessla corked the vial she was working on and looked at him curiously. "Such as?"

Tristan shuffled his feet and shrugged.

"I don't know. What is something you want?"

_You._ Tessla thought. "I don't know what you mean. And where did this sudden need for action come from?"

"I've been idle too long," he said with another shrug. He looked at her keenly. "Come here."

She put her bottles on the table and faced him, crossing her arms loosely. "Yes?"

Tristan shook his head, his amber eyes glittering in the light of the flickering fire.

"Come. Here." he repeated slowly.

Tessla swallowed and took a step toward him. "I—I don't like your tone, scout," she said. "I do not live to cater to your whims."

He smiled at her and it was dangerously predatory for such a small smile. His soft laughter skittered up her spine, making her skin rise in goosebumps.

"Actually you do, little witch," he said quietly as he closed the distance between them.

Tessla's breath held as he stretched out his hand and brushed his fingers down her cheek. She felt the calloused tips caress her skin as if Tristan was corporeal, but also there the whisper soft coolness that was left in their wake. Her eyes fluttered closed and she raised her hand to touch his wrist, sighing in disappointment when she felt the familiar tingle of passing through him.

She dipped her head out of his reach and stepped back, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

Tristan looked deep into those vibrant eyes and in that moment, he knew all of her secrets. He reached down and took her chin gently, brushing his thumb over her jaw.

"What difference does it make," she whispered miserably. "You're crossing over has nothing to do with what _I_ feel."

"Even if the way you feel is because of me?" Tristan asked, stepping closer.

"Tristan—"

"No," he said firmly. "Perhaps…well, perhaps you were chosen to be my guide because you were the one person that I could fall in love with. You are selfless and gentle, Tessla. Those are two traits that were foreign to me until I met you."

He lifted his hand and stroked his fingertips over her lips, leaning his face close to hers so that he could feel her breath on his lips.

"Let me be with you," he whispered, gazing into her eyes.

"It will never work," she said dejectedly. "I cannot touch you."

"Who's asking you to?" he said with a small smile. "Let me do this for you, little witch."

"Why, Tristan?"

He dropped his hand and straightened as she turned toward the fire. She looked over her shoulder at him awaiting his answer.

"Because I want to," he said honestly. "It is not need that drives me to this, Tessla. For the first time in my life, I want to give a woman pleasure without simply seeking my own. You love me. Stand aside and allow me to return that gift."

He held his hand out to her and she stared at it a moment with silent tears slipping down her cheeks before she crossed the room to him. She held up her hands as if to embrace him, then remembering she could not she clenched her hands into fists.

Tristan wiped the tears from her cheeks and kissed the tip of her nose. Tessla laughed lightly and sniffed.

"That tickled."

Tristan placed his hands on either side of her neck and angled her head upward. A delicious shiver passed through Tessla's body at the unfamiliar sensations.

He slid his hands over her neck and shoulders, tracing the contours of her collarbones before trailing his fingers lightly through the valley between her breasts. Tessla let her head fall back and closed her eyes, allowing herself simply to feel.

She could feel the strength in his fingers as though they were connected bodily, yet as they cascaded down her flesh, there was a lingering surge of sensation as if a half melted candle was being trailed over her body.

Her breasts grew heavy and her breath came faster as he continued his delicious torment of touching yet not touching.

He smiled wickedly, placing his tongue between his teeth as she arched back into his touch.

"Tristan."

The sound of his name whispered on her lips broke something in him. If he still had a body, he would have thrust himself into her, burying himself in her again and again until they were both spent and sated.

"Relax little witch," he said with a smile. He turned his attention back to her body.

His being thrummed with vibrancy as the heat from her body made his essence spark. The feeling was better than any sexual release he had ever had as a man.

Tessla's senses were assaulted by the merging of their forces and she allowed herself to be taken under. When the tremors had subsided and they both lay silently side-by-side on her bed, Tristan leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the sleeping Tessla's temple.

He breathed deep the scent of her hair and settled down to attempt to sleep.

A blinding light suddenly filled the hut and Tristan jumped from the bed ready to do whatever he could to protect Tessla.

"It's about damn time," came a familiar voice from the light.

Tristan threw a hand up to shield his eyes. "Lancelot?"

The light went out and the dark haired knight stepped forward with a smile. He looked to the bed where Tessla sat, clutching her blanket and looking flabbergasted.

"What are you doing here, Lancelot?" Tristan asked.

"Oh, I just thought I'd pop in for a bit," the young knight said, rolling his eyes. "I've come to get you, you nitwit."

"Get me?" Tristan asked.

Lancelot pointed to Tristan, then jerked a thumb to the ceiling. "Get you," he repeated.

Tristan lookedd at Tessla, who had stood and wrapped the blanket around her. She gave him a bright smile that did not reach her eyes.

"That's...fantastic, scout," she said with false cheerfulness. "You can crossover now."

"You cannot stay with her, Tristan," Lancelot said sadly as the scout remained silent. "The dead have no future with the living."

"He is right," Tessla said as her eyes filled with tears. She offered him another sad smile as she walked to him.

She stretched out her hand to touch his face, then laughed humorlessly and shook her head. "How I wish I could hold you," she said quietly.

Tristan stared at her and felt his eyes start to burn. His vision blurred and he blinked hot tears that crawled down his cheek.

"Come, Tristan," Lancelot said quietly as he gripped the other man's shoulder. "Prolonging it only makes it harder."

He nodded to Tessla and stepped back. He began to fade out slowly. "Come scout," he called before he disappeared completely.

"I will never forget you, my little witch," Tristan whispered brokenly. He brushed his hand across Tessla's cheek once before his hand began to disappear.

"Nor I you," Tessla said. Her voice caught on a sob as Tristan faded more and more.

"I will see you again," he said. "One day..."

And then he was gone.


	6. Epilogue

_**EPILOGUE **_

The old woman lay in bed, her breathing ragged. She had lived a good long life. Her godchildren were grown and had children of their own. Their parents had long since been dead.

There was a knock at the door before her dear boy stuck his head inside. He looked like both his parents, but sounded so much like Bors.

"Thought I'd drop in and check on ya. D'you need anythin'?"

The old woman shook her head and smiled at him. She waved him out with a papery hand.

He left and she lay in darkness, smiling to herself. She drifted off to sleep…

"Little witch?"

Tessla opened her eyes. She had not been called that since she was a young woman. And that voice…

That voice…

"Tristan?" she whispered.

"Aye, little one," Tristan said as he sat beside her.

Tessla sat up and stood. She felt no aches or pains as she did so and that surprised her. She looked at her hands, which were smooth and young again.

"Do not be afraid, Tessla," Tristan said as he touched her cheek.

She looked back to the bed and saw her body, old and withered, asleep. A small smile curved her mouth.

"I'm…I'm…" Tessla looked at Tristan with wide eyes. He gave her a small nod as he continued to caress her cheek. Instinctively, she reached for his chest to hold him closer.

He felt solid beneath her fingers.

The tears came then, as did her smile. She gripped his shoulders and ran her hands down his arms.

"Tristan!" she exclaimed as she continued her perusal of his form. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him to her, laughing through her tears when she felt his arms enclose around her.

They held each other for a long moment before he pulled back slightly. He cupped her face and brought his mouth down to hers tasting her lips. Her mouth opened and her tongue welcomed his with eagerness.

"I've waited your entire life to do that," he whispered with a smile as he rested his forehead against hers.

She laughed and kissed his lips again.

"Come," he said, extending his hand to her.

"What…what happens next Tristan?" she whispered nervously.

He enveloped her hand in his and drew her close to his side.

"Whatever we want," he replied.

With a wave of his hand, the room was engulfed in a blinding white light. The scout led Tessla through the portal and into the afterlife, where the other knights and her parents were waiting to welcome them.

Tessla tightened her grip on Tristan's hand and smiled up at him. Though they had been apart in life, they would be together in eternity.


End file.
